Surviving Stephanie Chapter 31

Disclaimer: Janet's going to kill me anyway. But this is hers. I'm playing Pirate. But I'm not making any money. So there.

Note: Thank you so much, everyone. I'm sorry I didn't get the time to thank everyone individually, but I hope you like this chapter enough to take it as an apology. All your feedback is very, very appreciated.

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Ranger really could cook. I was beginning to think maybe I really had made him up. He was just too perfect. Except for that unfortunate Type-A brat side. But I guess being CEO or whatnot might cause that…

I ate almost the whole omelet. I also decided to pretend I hadn't noticed him keeping an eye on me like he was expecting me to scrape half of it off to the dog. Since he didn't have a dog as far as I knew, I didn't understand the fascination.

"So, do you have pets?" I asked afterward, as I stirred a healthy amount of cream into my coffee. Alas, wherefore art thou caramel macchiato, in this mine hour of need? I was aiming now for small talk. Not that Ranger was the small talk type, but if I was possibly pregnant by him, I figured it might be a good idea to find out a few things. Age, point of origin, religious affiliation, number of ex-wives. That sort of thing.

He moved his head an infinitesimal amount to the right. Guess that was a no.

"How about a private arsenal?" Aha, now I had his attention. His eyes were staring straight at me, the mug of tea half-way to his lips, now totally forgotten. If he'd just do the pinky thing. Just once…

"Babe?"

"Aren't you a gun runner or something? Or mercenary? People keep talking about you keeping small third-world countries secure."

Heh, a part of me had to appreciate this moment. I was sitting here over coffee with a guy who looked like he might be due at a GQ cover shoot later, in a flat-out, old-school East Coast mansion talking about nefarious things. Oh yeah, and I could be pregnant by him… Peachy keen way to start the day. If only there was an iced caramel coffee drink to top it off. Or a shot of Jagermeister.

Ranger sighed. "RangeMan is a private military contractor. We mainly do consulting work." I looked at him, carefully weighing my next question.

"No gunrunning?"

"Babe." He shook his head again, looking resigned. I grinned and took a sip of my coffee.

"Sorry. But you do look like you could if you wanted to. I think it's all the black. Which, by the way, is that for a reason? One of my ex-es always wore black and stuff because he was super colorblind."

Ranger gave me a Look that spoke of getting shipped to the aforementioned economically disadvantaged foreign states. I rolled my eyes.

"You aren't sending me to a third world jungle. What would you do for entertainment? You'd be coming to get me in two days because you'd be dying of boredom."

"I never said anything about sending you anywhere," he smiled and looked amused.

"Oh. Well maybe it was someone else. Something about in a box of car parts? Are you sure you didn't say that? You should. It would definitely scare the daylights out of someone."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You could use it at the next board meeting."

He sat back, laughing as if this were a brilliant idea. I considered the meetings we had in the AMA and decided it might be. That was one thing I'd always dreaded- meetings. With that book of rules and all the secondings and procedures. Generally it gave me the urge to claw someone's eyes out.

Ranger disappeared to go get suited up, leaving me in the den with the massive plasma tv and a remote that should have been able to activate missile silos, NASA launch codes, and spy satellites, but which I had difficulty changing the channel with.

To my everlasting horror I was stuck on a channel airing The Swan when he walked in. Ranger glanced at me, but apparently decided not to comment. I didn't let him.

"I think I just launched a lunar module, but the channel wouldn't move."

"Maybe we should put OnStar in your car instead…" he said, with a hint of a smile as he handed me a set of keys that looked a lot like the ones I'd had for the last CR-V. I laughed

"That's a better idea. They talk to you right? Talking cars are cool."

I paid attention to the ride back to the apartment, but I had no landmarks until we were almost there. I did find out Ranger's house was in an area of other large, stately estates that looked nothing like anything I'd seen so far in this place. His neighborhood came with walls, gates, manicured lawns, gardeners for the lawns, maids, and limos.

It would have been a hell of a place to throw a kegger.

Hector met us at Stephanie's apartment and showed me the numbers to punch into the keypad. Great, numbers AND buttons and I was getting the instructions via a ghetto-ized garble of Mexican Spanish. My years of classroom Spanish would get me through Spain, Puerto Rico, and maybe some parts of South America but It had its limits. Generally speaking those limits were located around thesouthern bank of the Rio Grande.

I sighed and asked him to go slower, so I managed to catch the gist. Hit the numbers, check the light, enter or run screaming. Got it. I'd figure out the rest later.

Hector disappeared, and Ranger stepped closer to lean down and put his lips on mine. He tasted warm and herbal and the solid feel of his body pressing me back against the wall just about killed me. I wrapped my arms around his waist and returned the kiss.

Finally he stepped away, his eyes dark and blazing with heat. Oh yeah, he wanted me. He wanted me bad. I'd have gloated but the feeling was mutual to a terrifying extent.

And then he was gone. I sighed and turned my head to look into the apartment. I immediately focused on the formerly welcoming and comfy couch. Alas poor couch, I knew it not at all…

Blech, death cooties. Just looking at it gave me creepy-crawlies. I eyed it cautiously, running over my options in my head. Steven Soder's dead body had been duck taped together and sitting there. I shook my head in defeat. I was pretty sure no amount of white sage, cleansing rituals, or metaphysical rites of any kind would get rid of death cooties. Ditto for Lysol. It only left one option: The couch had to go.

I frowned and turned my attention to the rest of the place. It was clean, nothing really looked like it had been disturbed. That only left the problem of getting rid of the icky feeling creeping over my skin from just standing here.

I dug through the big ugly Coach purse until I found a pair of convenient latex gloves and set to work, thankful that my pain medication was still going strong so this wasn't going to hurt nearly as much as it should. I kicked a couple books that had been underneath it out of the way. I didn't know if death cooties would count on books but I wasn't taking chances. Several minutes later I had maneuvered the infested furniture into the hallway. I'm Super Girl and I'm here to save the world... my own stomach rumbled. Whoops, guess it had been awhile since I ate anything.

I opened the fridge, only to find that it was ominously empty. Well, not really. I had some yogurt, fruits, veggies, salad stuff... but tonight was not a night for healthy. Tonight was night for... a package of chocolate chip cookie dough sitting in the freezer, just gathering ice crystals. Hey, eating healthy is great, but when you're facing down death cooties, you need that surge only chocolate can provide. I rummaged around to find a baking sheet and put the cookies in to bake. Ah, the miracles of the modern age.

While the cookies baked I set to work on cleansing her/my/our/the apartment (it was getting hard to figure out which to call it lately). After all the shooting and strange going on and intense emotion it was a small wonder there weren't demons lurking. I shuddered just thinking about it and offered a quick prayer that Janet was not considering some sort of Charmed homage.

A quick ransacking of the kitchen revealed the girl had no helpful herbs or spices, and I knew she wouldn't have a quartz crystal anywhere around. Damn it. Weirdo normal people, not keeping a fully stocked arsenal of useful home remedies and ridiculously expensive New Age goodies. I glared at the useless cabinets and wished for my mom.

The only thing vaguely useful was a carton of salt and a bunch of candles that had enough dust on them I had to wonder if they'd been through Stephanie's divorce with her. I considered pouring a trail of salt through the apartment, but decided it probably wasn't worth the mess. Ditto for pouring it in a circle around the couch's former position in the living room.

I glanced from the salt to the door. Back at the salt. Door. Salt. I took a deep breath and prayed the neighbors were asleep or something. This is for you, Mom... I grabbed the salt and poked my head out. All clear. I poured a line of salt across the doorway then pulled my head back in and locked the door.

I looked down at the Morton's iodized salt label in wonder. I really did feel more secure. Huh. Salt… and chocolate chip cookies. Mmm, they smelled heavenly. I opened the oven and peeked in, but they didn't look done. Rats.

I wandered into the bedroom and picked up a bunch of Stephanie's extra throw pillows, hauling them into the living room. Al fresco TV. Or something like that. Maybe I could find some beaded curtains and mosquito netting… I plopped down on the pile of pillows and flipped on the teev. Who knew, there might be something worth watching.

The cookies were done before I found anything. I set them out of a towel to cool. Rex had paused by his water dish to give me a very weird look. I almost felt like he was asking 'All right, lady. Who are you and where's my mom?'

I sighed and dropped a raisin into his cage. "Think of me as a foster mom, Hamtaro," I told him. "I'm beginning to think that this might be a permanent arrangement," I added wistfully.

Rex wisely said nothing, choosing to stuff his mouth full of raisin and retreat to his soup can. Discretion is the better part of valor, even for hamsters, I guessed. I watched his furry little butt wiggle happily for a moment. He really needed a better home. I was going to have to get him one, as soon as this business with Napoleon Dynamite was over.

Yeah, that might get me his affections. Crap, I'm bribing the rodent. I grimaced and grabbed a still-warm cookie, playing hot potato with it as I walked back to the bedroom and crossed quickly to the windows. I didn't have any milk and honey, so this was just going to have to do for a quick bribe to any wandering good spirits. If a place like this had any good spirits. Looking out at the uninspiring sight of Trenton by street lamp and moonlight I had my doubts. A pang of homesickness went through me as I thought of dad's ranch out in Oklahoma. My bedroom there looked out on a barren prairie, but at least there was a sky glittering with stars. There weren't any stars here. Just lights and high rises and more lights. I could make out the moon but that was about it.

I bit my lip and forced myself back down to earth as I placed the cookie on the windowsill and whispered a quick plea for help. A last, rueful glance up at the blank sky and I closed the window, quickly pulling the shade down. I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the chorus of old country songs playing faintly in the back of my mind. Here the city lights out shine the moon/ I was just thinking of you … You're the reason God made Oklahoma... Shut up, I thought at them fiercely. I don't have the energy for this.

Hey, at least I had my Dad back. I still hadn't figured that out. But if this was just my hallucination, I guess it figured. I mean, might as well have my own freakish parents instead of someone else's. And I'd probably kept Stephanie's mom because I had never had a stepmom longer than about ten minutes, so might as well.

I grimaced, feeling the beginning of a migraine looming ahead.

This didn't make sense. None of it. It didn't make sense that I looked more and more like myself when I looked in the mirror and now my dad was my dad and her mother was my stepmother and no one seemed to notice the casting change but me.

Unless this was my hallucination, but honestly that didn't follow either. I had a great imagination, but it would never be able to come up with this much detail for this long. And wouldn't I have woken up by now?

The migraine crept closer.

Now, if I was a scientific person, I'd have some great process to test the theory forming in my head. I mean, I kept trying to turn the plot on its ear, but it kept turning back over. It was like a Bobo doll. Punch it and it pops back up. Punch it again. It still comes back. I hadn't gone after Evelyn, but Abruzzi was still after me. I hadn't turned to Morelli or called him and we still wound up fighting tooth and nail. I hadn't gone after Bender and that CR-V still got stolen. I grabbed a cookie and hopped up on the kitchen counter.

Think, think, think… I resisted the urge to tap my head like Pooh Bear. Okay, take this one step at a time. You fell down the stairs and woke up here. You changed what was happening. You started to look like you. You cause a major hitch in the plot and your dad showed up….

So maybe it wasn't exactly a Bobo thing after all.

I finished the cookie and grabbed another one. This was getting me nowhere. Well, it was getting me somewhere but it was agonizingly slow getting there. Wherever there was. To tell the truth, I wasn't even sure I wanted to go there. If there was where I was beginning to think it might be, I really would have felt infinitely more comfortable just being insane.

I jumped off the counter and headed into the living room, deciding it was time to pick up a little.

The debris was just a couple TastyKake wrappers, a small sachet bag and a couple books. The wrappers I trashed then I sat looking at the books and sachet. They hadn't actually been touching the couch. They should be safe. I picked up the sachet, sniffed and crinkled my nose. Eeew. Smelled like a luck charm, old-school voodoo style. Which meant it probably involved dreadful icky unmentionable things. Chicken blood, hair, toenails. Give me Sangria any day… okay, most Sangria. There's some of that that gets a little wonky too. Then again, most religions have their wonky branches. Some have human sacrifice, some have mass suicide, some like to have naked sex under a full moon. It just depends on your flavor of wonky.

I considered throwing the charm away but a lifetime spent with New Age gurus, Voodoo queens, hippies, and high priestesses had sort of ingrained a few things. I very respectfully put it under the cabinet under the sink and made a mental note to never ever open that cabinet again.

I was about to get back to the books when I heard a pounding at the door.

"Stephanie!" yelled an annoying, pissy male voice. "I know you're in there. Get your ass out here, you have a job to do!"

I bit my lip and wondered whether the stun gun in the big ugly Coach purse worked on weasels. "Just a second Vinnie."

I opened the door reluctantly and he stuck his foot in almost as if it was reflex. I guess lots of people didn't want to open their door to Vinnie. He opened his mouth, then shut it. "Jeez, you've dropped some poundage. You on some new diet? You oughtta share it with Lula-"

"Vinnie," I said, trying not to growl through my teeth. "Why are you here?"

"You ain't gone anorexic have you? Your mom'll kill me. Worse, she'll sic your Granny on me…"

I smiled at that idea. I'd have to try that tactic sometime. "Your reason for being here?"

"We're going after Bender."

"We, kemosabi?"

Vinnie sneered. "Yeah, unless you want to find another job." I sighed.

"Peachy keen. Let me get my gun and such." I left him where he was and grabbed my new keypad, the keys to the new CR-V, and the Purse from the Black Lagoon. As an afterthought I snagged a hoodie- never know what the weather might do. It was a leftover habit from the Midwest probably.

"What the hell is on your doorjamb? White shit…"

"Crack cocaine and heroin. I like to keep it sprinkled around, to attract new and different breeds of crazies."

Vinnie gaped at me. "You're screwed up." I raised an eyebrow.

"Do you really want to get into a contest of who's the weirder, cousin? I could always plead genetics."

He was silent for a moment. "You might have a point with that one."

I felt a rush of happiness that I knew nothing about the Plum family tree.

I climbed into Vinnie's massive H2 and tried desperately not to think the word 'compensation.' Instead I tried to focus on the radio which was blaring out some convoluted conservative talk show. The kind that would have been hilarious if they' hadn't been so serious. I glanced at Vinnie and couldn't tell if he was agreeing with them or seeing the humor in it.

Hard to tell with other species. Wonder what his parents looked like?

I had almost distracted myself when the green SUV pulled up alongside us. I turned when I realized they were getting stupidly close and promptly felt everything in my stomach trying to make an emergency escape through my throat.

The SUV was being driven by a large bear.

"Vinnie, go faster!" My voice was tight with rising panic. "It's the bear!" I looked around hoping for… something, but we were somewhere that seemed to be mostly made up of abandoned warehouses.

"Fuck. Of all the fucking…"

The bear turned it's happy, smiling cartoon button eyes to me, raised it's paw and waved. Then the paw came off and it made the international sign for a gun, aiming it at me.

The terror flowing through me instantly froze. I was being taunted by a fucking bear. A low-life, brandless teddy bear. Damn it, I don't have to take this. I'm a Care Bear. I'm better than that. And I was not going to go through another damned car wreck.

I rolled down the window. Vinnie was speeding up but the bear was keeping pace. Of course it was, it wasn't in a freaking H2… That's okay. I could handle this.

I raised my real gun and pointed it back at the Bear, an unpleasant smile curling my lips.

"What the hell are you doing?" Vinnie yelled.

"Going bear hunting with a stick," I muttered. The bear had seen the gun, I knew because the SUV made a sudden lurch to the right, away from the H2, and sped up. I leaned out the window and fired. We were in the projects anyway, might as well act local.

"Faster, Vinnie!" I yelled, still trying to keep my balance and aim at the same time.

"You're fucking crazy! Stop it! Get the--- holy shit!"

Ahead of us the SUV exploded into flamed. I fell back inside the H2.

"Fuck, we're getting the hell out of here…" He spun the H2 around, tires squealing as we flew away from the scene. "You had to hit the god damned gas tank, Stephanie? What the hell, do you think you're the Terminator? Jesus Christ…"

Whoops. Gas tank. Didn't know you could do that.

Vinnie dropped me off, still muttering curses and looking ready to have a coronary at any moment. But I noticed he hadn't threatened to fire me. Probably that would come in the morning.

I walked up to the apartment and stared at the door. There wasn't a light, so I guessed security was still secure. I hit the code and unlocked the door, leaving it open while I retrieved the salt and fixed the line Vinnie's shoe had smudged.

I was pretty sure I'd just killed someone. Well, a bear. I killed a bear. Dad would be thrilled. He'd want me to go with him to Canada on his next hunting trip. Too bad I'd exploded the bear…

I didn't know you could hit the gas tank. Maybe something ricocheted. Maybe it was going to blow up anyway. Abruzzi could have been sending a Bear-gram. Sure.

I laid the gun and gunbelt down in the living room before I did a belly flop onto the mound of pillows and wallowed around until I was comfy. Take me away, TV Land. There was a Bewitched marathon on.

I was zoned so far into the vapidness that I didn't even hear Ranger come in. If I ever heard Ranger at all.

"Babe?" his voice drifted in as he walked through the kitchen I blinked, tearing myself away from Endora insulting Darrin yet again to look at him.

"Hey, Higgins. Grab some pillow."

"Your couch is in the hall," he said, pausing just outside the living room.

"It has death cooties," I explained.

"And there's a bunch of salt outside your door."

"It's a protection against icky things. And it's cleansing."

"You made cookies."

"Chocolate defeats death cooties."

Ranger took a deep breath and stayed quiet for a beat. "I knew there was a reasonable explanation."

I laughed and looked back at the television. "How was your take down?" I asked as he settled onto a pillow next to me. The smell of pizza wafted past my nose. "Dinner?"

"Pino's," he said, pushing the box toward me. "Cheese with extra sauce." Hey, as long as it wasn't Domino's it worked for me. I'd had so much of it Freshman year I still got sick just seeing a Domino's ad… hey, hang on a second…

"You remembered my order at Shorty's," I wondered out loud. He didn't get much of a chance to reply because I had to sit up and hug him for the effort. "You're the best."

"You're easy to please."

"Only in some areas," I said with a smirk before I disengaged and attacked the pizza box.

"I don't know. I don't remember having much of a problem in a few other areas…"

I coughed and rolled my eyes. "You are such a guy."

Then the sight of warm, gooey, yummy, cheesy, pizza filled my vision.I took a bite and sighed happily. Pino's was damned good. It wasn't Royal Inn, but… mmm, it was close. I wondered if they made gyros.

"So, how did your take-down go?" I asked again, when the first heavenly mouthful was gone.

"Not bad. The guy didn't have as much hardware as we thought he did." I thought about that for a second.

"I'm so glad I don't have your cases."

"Someday."

"I'll retire to a cave in Greece and become a New Age author and spiritual guru before that happens."

Ranger looked as if he was torn between smirking or worrying. "Anything exciting happen to you?"

I finished my pizza before I answered him. "I blew up a car." He smiled, a full 200-watts.

"Babe, the CR-V's still in the lot."

"Yeah, not that car…" I took a deep breath. "Vinnie came by and made me go Bender-chasing with him. So I took my gun and all… then this SUV pulls up when we were in this warehouse district and it was the guy in the bear suit. He made a gun sign and pointed it at me. So I pulled out my gun and pointed it back at him. He sped up to get away and I…um…" I glanced back at Ranger sheepishly. "I shot at the SUV. And it blew up."

"Babe," he laughed softly as he pulled me toward him.

"I don't think anybody saw it, but…"

"Vinnie's father-in-law can handle anything that comes up."

Oh yeah, Harry the Hammer. "He wouldn't… um, handle me or Vinnie would he?"

"No."

Good enough. "Vinnie's still going to fire me when he calms down enough to think about it," I sighed.

"Worry about Vinnie later, Babe."

We fell into silence as we finished the pizza, while Endora, Darrin, and Samantha continued their usual antics. I picked up the almost- empty box and tossed it into the trash along with Ranger's empty water bottle and my own empty can of Coke.

I walked back to the living room, stifling a yawn. "Hey, Ranger, I hate to sound like old and decrepit but I think I need to get some rest… "

He nodded and stood up. "Are you sure you want to stay here?"

"What?" I stared at him as I attempted to puzzle out the question. "Well, um… I don't really…"

"Even with the security system, this isn't the safest place for you," he said softly. He was standing close to me now, and his hand brushed the side of my face.

"So where is there a safer one?" I asked. I might give in, but he was going to have to work for it.

His lips quirked in that barely there smile. "With me." I smiled and leaned into his hand.

"I'm not sure that's exactly safer, Ranger."

His smile widened into the smoldering, predatory wolf grin. "Probably right, Babe. But I know a great spot for hot chocolate."

"Throw in marshmallows and it's a deal."